The Letters Never Sent
by Abigail Thalia La Rue
Summary: "Hermione woke up that Christmas expecting it to be just like any other. Oh, how wrong she was." A short one-shot of how Ron finally confessed.


The Letters Never Sent

Hermione woke up that Christmas expecting it to be just like any other. Oh, how wrong she was.

It was the winter of their fifth year at Hogwarts, and she and Harry had gone to stay at the Weasleys' with Ron.

She got out of bed, woke up Ginny, and together they went down to the living room for presents. The house was warm, and the smell of cinnamon and pine enveloped them as they entered the room.

"Finally!" one of the twins yelled. "We were just about to come up there and drag your lazy bums out of bed!"

"Shut it, all of you, and let's open presents!" The other shouted.

Hermione laughed, having gotten used to the Weasley boys' excitement over Christmas long ago, and obliged him. She and Ginny sat themselves on the floor in front of the couch, and the presents were handed around.

What followed was a blur of wrapping paper, ribbon, and laughter. Fred and George gave everyone gag gifts, including themselves, which was the cause for most of the laughter. Everyone was given a sweater, non Weasleys included, which they all (in some cases begrudgingly) pulled on over their pyjamas. She herself had received mostly books, and that was all well and good with her.

After hugs and thank yous had been doled out, and the once lovely wrappings gathered up and cleared away, they all packed themselves around the kitchen table for breakfast. They ate quickly, most eager to get out into the snow, others (including her) to take a closer look at their presents.

She sifted through her stack of books, not having had the chance to open all of them before, and scanned the pages to figure out what to read first. At the bottom of the pile was dark brown book that had no title printed anywhere on the outside of it. Sure she hadn't seen the book before, Hermione opened to the first page to see, in a neat and oddly familiar writing, the title "the Letters Never Sent" with no name of an author or publisher in sight.

"I wonder who…?" she wondered aloud, then stopped when she turned the page.

"Dear Hermione," were the words that had frozen her. But now, assured that the book had been left for her, she continued reading.

"July 14th, 1992

Dear Hermione,

I know it hasn't been long since I last saw you, but Errol is likely to have gotten lost, so I'm just hoping this arrives before I see you back on the train. I just wanted to check if you're doing alright. I know you said you were fine after everything that happened, but one can't help but worry-" The next bit was scribbled out, and the letter was, evidently, finished.

She flipped hurriedly to the next page, and started reading.

"May 8th, 1993

Dear Hermione,

I should feel silly writing this when I know you can't read it, but we were kicked out of the hospital wing and this was the only way to say this. I know you're only petrified, but, after seeing you like that, I'm scared for you. I know you can't see yourself, but you look like a statue. You look dead. You look dead, and I just can't take it-" This letter, too, ends abruptly, bit this time the last few lines are smeared with what looks like tears.

Hermione spent the rest of the morning reading letter after letter that had been cut short. There were far too many pages for her liking smeared with tears. A few even looked to have been spotted with blood.

Not too far into the afternoon, she came across a note in which the writing looked rushed and angry.

"December 25th, 1994

Dear Hermione,

How the hell could you go out with bloody Victor Krum!? What has he got that I don't! I know he asked you first, but he could have had another date in a heartbeat. He doesn't deserve you. You're smart, and funny, and beautiful. Damn it, Hermione, what do you see in him!? What don't you see in me?" It stopped there, and Hermione paused before turning the page. _Who left this? Where did all of these letters come from?_

The next few letters were similar, angry and ranting. It was several pages before the writing returned to the familiarly tidy scrawl.

By the time the others had finally come inside and were settled in the living room with steaming mugs of hot chocolate, she was nearing the end of her confusing book.

"Hey, what do you have there?" One of the twins questioned, poking her book. She turned away, but that only seemed to make it worse.

"Is it good?" The other asked.

"Can we see it?" They tried to take it from her then, and she snapped.

"Why don't you two mind your own business?" She turned a glare on them, and they shrank away.

"No need to shout…" One of them muttered, but left her in peace nonetheless.

She turned the page again, and was surprised to see an actual chapter title, as there had been none before.

"Epilogue: And the One That Was."

Sad to see she had reached the end, but ever curious, she read on.

"December 24th, 1995

Dear Hermione,

If you're reading this, then I actually had the guts to give this to you. That, in itself, is an accomplishment.

I'm sure you'll have figured out who I am by now, but, if not, you'll know soon enough." This sparked her already burning curiosity; she felt like she should know, but her mind kept getting stuck. "But, before I tell you, there are a few things I need you to know.

"All of the stupid, careless things I've said over the years aren't how I really feel. What I've felt is in these pages. Don't forget that. I've been stupid, not saying any of this earlier. I can't even say it to your face now. I'm not normally shy like this, but I can't look at you without getting all flustered and mixed up. Maybe it's because I know I don't deserve you, even as a friend. You're brilliant, and, even though I know you don't see it, incredibly beautiful. But that's not even a fraction of how amazing you are. You're passionate and fiercely loyal, and sometimes it's scary, but, at the same time, it's beautiful.

Words can't do you justice, even though you love them so much. There's so much I'd like to tell you, but I just can't find the words. And, since I know I must be rambling by now, I'll just give you three more.

I love you.

-Ron"

She sat there for a moment, tears building in her eyes, and looked across the room at him.

She got up without thinking, strode over to him, and pulled him up off the couch.

"H-Hermione," he stuttered, looking scared and a little hopeful.

"Shut up." She pulled him into a kiss, and then walked over to the back door. She turned around just before she got outside, said "thanks for the book," smiled, and went out into the snow with him running after her like she now knew he had been doing for years.


End file.
